When he had washed he got back into bed, and Hayhurst sat on a chair facing him, with a glass of whisky in his hand. "We'll have to go back to the beginning," he said, "if you want to follow the yarn--that is, to the time when Lawless left Cape Town before poor Simmonds' murder. You may remember he left Cape Town with a companion." "I do," Colonel Grey answered drily. "I have reason to remember." "So have I," Hayhurst rejoined. "Indeed!" "You see, I was with him," he explained, taking pleasure in the Colonel's open amazement. "We were in Stellenbosch together." "You!--With that she--" "Devil," prompted the young man cheerfully. "Yes! She wasn't half a bad sort either. You mustn't call her names. I've a sneaking affection for her." "I can imagine you would have." The Colonel snipped a fresh cigar, and lighted it, and lay with his hands clasped behind his head eyeing the youngster curiously as, in obedience to a nod, he helped himself from the box of cigars that stood on the table beside the bed. "I suppose you wouldn't believe me," he hazarded, "if I were to tell you that that was the most platonic friendship Grit Lawless ever indulged in?" "I should say that your ideas and mine of platonism were widely different," was the response. Hayhurst laughed. "Did you ever see the lady at close quarters?" he asked. "No... And have no wish to." "I fancy you are labouring under a mistake... You are looking at her now." He stroked his clean-shaven lip to hide his amusement, and his blue eyes smiled at the Colonel, who, in incredulous amazement, stared back at him from the pillow. "I never reckoned myself an effeminate-looking fellow," he said; "but I'm a tremendous success in petticoats--though it took a thundering lot of paint, no matter how carefully I shaved." "You lying young devil!" the Colonel ejaculated. "I don't believe a word of it." "Van Bleit wouldn't either," Hayhurst answered, calmly sipping his whisky, "if I hadn't changed my sex in front of him. I left him my hair as a keepsake... His friendship wasn't as platonic as old Grit's." The Colonel half sat up as a light broke in on him. "And that," he exclaimed with conviction, "is how you got hold of the letters?" "No." Tom Hayhurst leant forward with his hand on the counterpane, his boyish face flushed and eager. "All the credit for getting hold of the letters belongs to Lawless," he said. "I was merely the decoy for leading Van Bleit into his hands. He managed the rest. He's fine, Grit Lawless--a man... a white man. My conscience! you ought to have been with us yesterday and seen him handle Van Bleit." He furnished a description of the scene on the veld, and the Colonel listened in silence, save for an occasional appreciative grunt.